One Stands Alone
by FallenStar2
Summary: With Aragorn in the hands of Sauron, Legolas must find a way to save the King of Man (slight AU) - Now Complete =)
1. Part I

This is my first EVER attempt at Lord of the Rings fic. Please excuse any discrepencies. I did take a few poetic licenses, as listed below. I accept all criticisms and comments. This is being written for a literary magazine and will be shortened accordingly. If you have any suggestions, please pass them along. As always, feedback is awesome. Without further ado...  
  
Author's NOTES:  
- Haldir isn't dead. I unkilled him. He survived the battle of Helm's Deep. About thirty other elves survived too.   
- After the battle of Helm's Deep, Aragorn leaves to rally the support of men in Gondor. Since I haven't read ROTK in quite some time, I can say with some certainty that this does not follow the story line.   
- This is also a loose sequel to "For the Sake of One", a fanfic of the Mellon Chronicles, which is a basic Legolas and Aragorn friendship fanbase.   
- This also includes a few romantically gestured scenes with Arwen, because I think her character rocks and I love writing for her.  
- This is an Aragorn & Legolas fic, with some Aragorn/Arwen references.   
----  
  
One Stands Alone  
  
~*~*~*~  
Part I  
  
It was darkening sooner than one might expect. The sky had turned the deep grey, the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Winds began to howl, scouring the great forest. The small party of man rushed quickly through the trails. They knew the early darkness and the oncoming storm could mean one thing, that Sauron was watching them.   
Strider was beginning to lose his speed. Two days at a rapid pace did not help him, especially since defeating Saruman's forces at Helm's Deep. And carrying the dozen men behind him, the sons of Gondor, he knew they couldn't keep up. They didn't have a ranger's speed.  
"Sir ranger," one beckoned him from behind. "We cannot continue on this pace to the villages. We have to set up camp."  
Aragorn nodded. "Let the others catch up," he called. "But we must stand guard." He gazed at the evil sky looming above. "There is evil that no longer sleeps in darkness."  
It only took the men a few moments longer before they all gathered around the small fires the two men had constructed, providing shallow warmth to the chill raging from the mountains west of Mordor.   
As Strider began to prepare the guards, his mind traced back to the events a few days before, when he'd left the Rohan stronghold. Saying goodbye to what remained of the fellowship was difficult. They had all proven their worth in battle. But Eowyn's face remained an echo in his solemn mind. He remembered when he told her he was leaving and she had begged him to stay. It only took a few words to tell her he didn't feel the way she felt of him. He knew by the look on her face that he had struck a nerve, had damaged the fragile shell of hope he'd helped to build up in his fight to save Helm's Deep.   
In more ways than one, it had struck him.  
Uncupping his hand, he gazed down at the evenstar. Even in the dimming light and cold winds, it glimmered like sunlight. "If only I could speak a thousand words to say..." his words trailed off as the voices of the men behind him grew louder.  
"Sire," one of the men came up to him, clasping his shoulder. His voice slurred with the punch of ale, and Aragorn could feel annoyance creep into his usually penitent demeanor. "Who will take the first watch?"  
"I will," Aragorn replied. "You and your men get some rest and gather your strength. Tomorrow will only bring more challenges."  
"Yes, sire," the man replied, and turned back to his own flock, who cheered and lifted their ale. "To good, kindred spirits!" they chanted.  
Aragorn glanced down at the evenstar before carefully hanging it about his neck once again. "If only you knew the perils that lay ahead, you would not be cheerful of the existances you so desire."  
As he stood watch, the men behind him began to silence and fall asleep. He took the sounds of the still air as comfort and kept his eyes sharply trained on the woods surrounding them.   
  
--  
  
Darkness still came many hours later. The men trudged on into the shadows of the forests, their torches burning brightly among the tilted leaves and branches.   
There was a stillness to the air that disturbed Aragorn. The air seemed to be thick with malice, with something he couldn't quite place. "Sons of Gondor, keep your eyes open," he ordered calmly. "There is more than darkness that lurks in these hills."  
The men chanted their agreement and followed him through the rest of the path into the hills of the eastern fjords of Gondor. Onward they pressed into the darkness. Aragorn knew it meant something more, that the sun had never risen. Sauron's hold had taken grip on Gondor. He had seen the last of daylight.  
A sound shook him from his reverie. It sounded like birds flying overhead, their caws drowning his thoughts and fears. "What is this evil that you have brought us now, Sauron?" he muttered.  
"Lord Aragorn?"  
The voice behind him sounded shaky. He turned and faced the frightened, dim faces of the men standing behind. His gaze travelled beyond them, to the shadows lurking in the hills. "It is a trap."  
The men turned, panic evident in their movements as they spied the hundreds of shadows growing closer.  
"They must have been following us for days," one of the men whispered, terrified.   
"To trap us like rabbits," another followed.  
Aragorn cast his torch aside, ignoring the flames as they caught on the ground. He pulled out his sword, his eyes fixed on the growing expanses of orcs closing in on them.  
"To Gondor." 


	2. Part II

Part II  
  
"Master elf, Master dwarf, you have a visitor."  
"Send them in," Legolas replied calmly, turning to gaze into the darkness as a feminine figure stepped inside.   
"Legolas." Eowyn's voice held pain and uncertainty. "Rohan is certain it will never see the light of another day. The people are worried, they are terrified."  
"They will be safe here," Gimli interjected, stepping up to the Rohan princess. "Gondor is the one our concerns must lie."  
"He is right," Legolas replied. "The people of Rohan will be safe here. But we must get moving. The enemy draws deeper into Gondor as the race of man stands but by the tip of a knife."  
Eowyn nodded slowly. "And Lord Aragorn? Will he meet us there?"  
"Once his mission is complete," Legolas assured her.   
Eowyn gave them a shaky smile before retreating to the door. As she placed her hand on it, she turned back to the two. "What will become of us?"  
"Our fate is no longer clearly seen," Legolas replied softly. A strange tingle worked its way down his spine and he turned to face the harsh rocky wall. He blinked, trying to recover his sense. He barely heard Eowyn echo her goodbyes before leaving.   
"Legolas?" Gimli asked. He had seen the look on Legolas' face before. "What is it?"  
"I feel the presence of darkness," Legolas responded, keeping his gaze averted while he collected his thoughts. "It draws near."  
Gimli's eyes widened. "We should call the Rohirrim."  
"It is not we who I concern for," Legolas said. "Strider is in danger."  
A scream sounded from outside, drawing both the dwarf and the elf from the small room they'd rested in. They turned to see a woman pointing, harsh sobs choking her words.   
Legolas turned, leaping to the top of the rocky gate, his superior vision seeking a collapsed figure in a yonder hill. "Gimli, find Eomer. There is a human wounded abroad." Gimli nodded and swept off to get the Rohirrim prince.  
Legolas turned back to the woman, who was seeking comfort in the arms of her husband. Even in the darkness, he could see the tenderness, the fragility. He swallowed hard and turned back to watch the man.  
"He has come recently." An arrogant voice behind Legolas piped up. "I only sensed his movements a moment ago."  
Legolas nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the victim. "It will take hours for the men to gather their things. Shall we bring him in?" He turned to the source of the voice. Even in his tattered, bloodied clothing, Haldir stood tall as any general might assume.   
"I will send my men, young elf."  
Legolas nodded as Haldir retreated into darkness. It took only a few moments for the elves to ride out to the spot where the man lay. It wasn't long before he was safely in custody.  
Legolas and Gimli quickly retreated to the gate to meet him. "This is one of Aragorn's men," Gimli said in surprise.  
"He looks dead," an elf in the rear claimed.  
"He breathes," Legolas said softly, gently helping two of the other elves take the man down and lay him on the cold, hard floor. "This is one of Aragorn's men." He gently shook the man awake.   
"What has caused this malice?" The first question came from Haldir, his sharp eyes trained on the bruised face, the bloody scratches cut deep into his neck, into his skull.   
"Orc," the man replied, choking his words with the thin trail of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.   
Haldir turned to Legolas. "The ranger?"  
"Ambushed."  
Legolas could feel the strange feeling again. "The others?"  
"Dead. All dead."  
There was a collective gasp from the humans that surrounded them. Including Eowyn, who stood on top of the steps, staring into darkness, hearing the voices, but not quite believing in their words.   
"The ranger?" Haldir's voice held more anxiety than the elf would admit.  
"They took him."  
"Where did they take him?" It was Gimli's first question.   
The man shook his head, clearly dazed and confused. "I don't know. It was in total darkness. But he fought. He killed. And he fell."  
Legolas drew in his breath and rose to his feet. "This should not have happened. This was not forseen."  
"What is done is done," Haldir replied, putting a comforting hand on Legolas's shoulder. "If he lives, he is in Sauron's hand. If he has fallen, you would know. Thus would we."  
Legolas nodded and turned to the men standing up the steps. "Treat his wounds. Make him comfortable. He is in great pain." That being said, he took the other stairs, alone.  
  
--  
  
Through the mist, he could see the boat approaching. "Where am I going?"  
"It is you who stands alone," a voice replied at his elbow. Slowly, a feminine hand entertwined his. "It is I who leaves for the journey."  
"Arwen," he breathed, turning to her.  
She saw his face, broken, bleeding, bruised. He could read the dispair and the anguish in her eyes. "Why do you fight evil you know destroys you?"  
"No one else will," he said, gently taking her other hand. "Am I lost in a dream? Or have I left the world?"  
"You are strong," she answered, touching his face, his cuts and bruises. "Your hearts beats in time with the rhythm of your strength."  
"I am losing my strength."  
"You must hold onto what you cherish most," she murmured, her fingers lightly tracing the evenstar around his neck. "What you carry with you is what you hold most dear."  
"I cannot fight alone," he replied, drawing a sharp look from her.  
"It was you who made the choice to stand alone," she replied.  
Aragorn bent his head, his forehead lightly touching hers. "I cannot leave this world to approach the next without telling you..."  
"I know of what you speak," she assured him. "My heart will always beat with yours. But you must have the strength to return to what you once were."  
"But if I fail, what will happen then?"  
"The race of man stands alone without the one to guide them," Arwen said.   
"I understand why I fell in love with you that day," he said gently, touching her hair with a bloodied hand. "And why my heart cannot bear to leave yours."  
"We will be one again," she told him, taking his bloodied hand and caressing it with her own. "But you must return and face those who have taken you. And when your strength comes, you will defeat the hold darkness has."  
"How do live through darkness?" he asked.  
"Faith will guide you," she replied, touching his face one last time, her lips brushing softly against his bruised forehead. "It will always be faith." 


	3. Part III

Aragorn opened his eyes and spied his surroundings. Even though most of it lay in darkness, scattered fires dotted the landscape. He could see darkened figures huddling over the little warmth fires provided.  
His breath came out a cold blue stream, frozen against his face. He breathed in and out, trying to clear his aching head. He brought one bloodied hand to his face, wincing at the touch against his forehead. His hand came back red.  
With a heavy sigh, he tried to stand, only to find his feet were laden with a heavy iron ball, tied sharply to a stake dug deep into the ground.  
He reached over and tugged at the stake, trying to draw it from the ground. His hands were aching and with the cold air, were becoming increasingly numb. With a sharp grunt, he flung the heavy chain back and leaned against the rock he'd been thrown against.  
The orc wouldn't be long. They were notorious prison guards.  
Aragorn could have hit himself. He should have known that the orc would have been tracing their movements. He should have prepared the men better, rallied their support. "They should have at least been armed," he muttered in disgust.  
He knew it was his youth that had summoned the aggressiveness inside of him. But watching those men, all brave, capable youth, fall one by one to the knifes and ax of the orc was unsettling. Aragorn himself had been rendered unconscious after taking out a dozen and a half. But one had placed an arm around his neck, choking the air of him.  
As he had collapsed, he opened his eyes. He saw the bodies of men, his men, the Sons of Gondor, falling one by one to the cruelty of the orcs.  
And then darkness overcame.  
  
--  
  
Legolas slowly descended the staircase, his eyes on the dozen heads in front of him. Even in darkness, firey sconces lit the dim halls, providing adequate light. His gaze travelled to the White Wizard, who towered them all.  
"Gandalf?"  
"We have been called here to answer the threat of Mordor," Gandalf began, speaking with his eyes that he and Legolas would speak later.  
Theodén, King of the Rohan, stood on the other side of the wizard, surrounded by his top men and his nephew, Eomer. "We have already received a call to assist at the eastern border. The steward of Gondor is preparing to make his last stand to protect what little they can. If Sauron overcomes his forces, Gondor will fall."  
The halls were quiet a long moment.  
"You must go," Legolas said, his voice echoing eerily in the rocky expanse. "Minas Tirith stands by the whim of a few."  
"We intend to go," Eomer spoke up. "I have spoken with my men. The Rohirrim will march come morning. Or what remains of it. Our concerns now rest with Lord Aragorn and his predicament."  
"What shall we do?" Legolas asked, turning to Gandalf, as he usually did, for guidance.  
"There is little we can do," Gandalf replied. "It is more than likely that Aragorn was killed in the ambush."  
"If the human was killed, we would have known," Haldir said, coming down the hall, a delegation of elves behind him.   
Legolas turned and grasped Haldir's hand, muttering an elvish greeting. He turned back to the men. "You know that if he were in our position, he would not stop until we were safe from harm. He would die for any one of us, yet none of us has the courage to step the line and help a friend in need."  
He knew it would be easier to sway the elves because they knew the position that Aragorn held in their society. But he knew that the humans would refuse to save another man, especially if in the hands of the enemy. Gandalf would be the most difficult.   
"He has most likely passed through the Black Gate," Gandalf reasoned. "Any man or elf who pursues will likely perish in the struggle. And once inside, as you recall Master Boromir once spoke, evil rests there that does not sleep."  
Legolas nodded. He understood how difficult it was for Gandalf to reason saving one man's life. "For the sake of the one," Legolas whispered, turning to Haldir. Convincing his elder that saving the ranger was the best course of action was all he could do.   
"Folly," another voice spat out. "Complete folly."  
A dozen pairs of eyes glanced up as two small hobbits drew closer.  
"Merry! Pippin!" Gimli and Legolas's voice joined as one in their relief to see the two small hobbits alive. "When did you arrive?"  
"You know that if Aragorn knew your lives were in danger, he would not fall until every last enemy was dead," Peregrin said instead. "We arrived this morning, while you were resting Gimli, Legolas."  
"He stands alone while we quarrel among ourselves," Haldir reminded them.   
Gimli went and stood by the hobbits. "I believe we are needed elsewhere."  
Legolas turned to Haldir as the elder elf nodded slowly. "We are not under your rule or guise," Legolas began slowly. "But what Aragorn did during the battle, he proved once and again that he is the King of Gondor."  
The men quickly murmured their response.  
"As a delegation of elves, we will attempt to find Aragorn," Haldir replied. "We will go alone. If he has passed the Black Gates, we will meet you at Minas Tirith."  
Gandalf sighed, dropping his gaze. He quickly raised it, leveling his eyes on the two elves. "Be that as it may, you two cannot go alone."  
"My delegation is prepared to go," Haldir responded. "And I will be in contact with Celeborn."  
There were tears in the eyes of those closest to Aragorn. The hobbits, the elves, and, of course, Gandalf, who still averted his eyes to the rocky floor, his staff tapping out an even beat on its cold surface.  
"Bring him back," Theoden said, speaking for the race of man. "We are a small union. The world of man needs its King."  
"It will have its King," Legolas promised him, promised them all.   
With that, the elves divided and retreated back down the halls, leaving the men and the other few gathered deep in thought.  
"You will leave for Minas Tirith come daybreak," Gandalf said. "Theoden, gather your men. We will leave at dawn." He turned to Gimli. "Sound the horn, Master Dwarf."  
Gimli nodded, the mischevious glint in his eyes sparkling.   
Gandalf turned to the two hobbits. "You will come with us."  
"I will come with you, too," Eowyn said from behind them. Her eyes were set with fire on her brother. "You know that I care for him more than I care for anyone."  
Eomer nodded. "I understand."  
Eowyn tossed her head proudly and faced the wizard for the first time. "I will only go if you will allow me. Lord Aragorn would claim that it would be too dangerous. But you need all of the able fighters you can get. I offer myself to you freely."  
Gandalf nodded. The humans and Gimli then dispersed, heading the opposite direction from the elves.  
The two hobbits and Gandalf remained. "I wish for you two to tell me about the battle of Isengard."  
Merdiadoc smiled, his eyes lighting up. "With pleasure..." 


	4. Part IV

It was well after daybreak when Aragorn woke up. His head still hurt, but at least he could see. What little there was of light was coming over the horizon, the mountains stretching ever so close. He had been moved during the night.  
It was funny he could not remember.  
His hands were still frozen, but wound with dark cloths. He pressed them to his knees, trying to feel his legs. His entire being was aching. Taking a single breath brought ripples of pain down his sides, through his head. He tried to move but fell to the side, his binded hands clawing at the frozen ground, his eyes desperate to feel something other than pain.  
The wound dark cloth began to scratch off as the cold earth came into contact with his skin. He let out a small cry of relief as the cold ash filled his palm and he forced himself back up, staring as the chilly wind swept the ash from his palm. He forced his gaze upwards, to find the location of his captors. He could only see a few. The others must have retreated over the hills into the Black Gate and back into Mordor.  
The thought that Mordor was less than a day away made him cold. He knew that if he must escape, and he knew he had to, it had to be now.  
It had been less than two days since his capture. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. It seemed to be locked inside his soul.  
"Legolas," he moaned, turning his head. His vision was beginning to blur from dehydration. He could feel his strength start to falter.  
What was it that Arwen had asked... for him to believe in what faith he had? All of the faith he had rested in those he trusted the most. Legolas was one of the most trusted beings Aragorn knew.   
All Aragorn could do was put his faith in Legolas. If he failed and perished, which he knew was an opportunity, he knew that Legolas would carry on.   
Lifting his bruised hand, he grasped the evenstar and removed it from around his neck. "If you see her again, give her this for me."  
With that, he overturned his hand, the delicate chain sliding into the ash. The ash immediately covered the chain.  
"Human!"   
The single word was an order as Aragorn was forced to his feet. He knew he didn't have the strength to fight the large number of orcs. Even as he closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp object poke between his shoulder blades, pressing him onwards as they climbed the hills to the mountains.  
  
--  
  
"Legolas, are you set?"  
Legolas turned to the messenger in the doorway, nodding brusquely. He then turned and pulled his bow over his shoulder, strapping on his boots. "Feels good to return to battle," he countered, sliding his long-handled elvish blade into place. He turned and stared at the small royal room, his gaze filling with sadness as he knew it would be the last time he ever saw it. Taking a deep breath, he left, retreating through the doorways until he reached the outdoors. A small glimpse of daylight filled the doorway. He sighed in relief and stepped through, his fair hair blowing back as a cool breeze caught it. "Haldir!"  
Haldir turned to him, his face tense. "Legolas." He quickly began speaking in a low, elvish tone.   
Legolas realized that fear was justified in the older elf's words. Sauron had begun his attack on Lothlorién. Celeborn and Galadriel were calling upon all of the strengths of their own to disable the threat. Lothlorién would not be able to help them scout Aragorn.  
Legolas was disappointed. He had held hopes that a large elvish delegation would help find Aragorn and possibly displace the orcs who had ambushed the party. But now they would stand alone.  
"We had better go," Haldir reminded him. "The Rohirrim left at dawn."  
"Not all did."  
The two elves turned to see four men upon horses, resting behind them. "King Theoden has asked us to accompany you on your journey."  
Haldir opened his mouth to protest, but one of the humans cut him off. "You came to our aid in our greatest time of need. It is our turn now."  
The two elves glanced at each other before turning back to the men. "Come," Legolas said. "We will leave now."  
In all, there were fourteen men and horses, pounding the rolling hills, past the river. They rode late into the afternoon, when they reached the southern hills of Gondor. "They would have ridden him north, towards Mordor," Legolas said, pointing to a dark stubble of hills on the horizon. "We will follow that path another half day until we reach the forests."  
Again, they rode, through what remained of daylight and deep into twilight. Once they reached the forests, they quickly divided themselves and took two different paths. Legolas could feel the presence of the enemy nearby, and he knew that Haldir could as well, but they both agreed to lead their separate groups. Before Haldir had ridden off, he had turned to Legolas and nodded, whispering the words for good luck in the ancient form of elvish.  
Legolas turned his horse, quickly rallied his men to point behind him, and rode on into the forest. 


	5. Part V

The forest seemed eerie in the middle of the night. All around the elves and the two humans riding in between, shadows crept and fell, the leaves rustled, and the branches seemed to reach for the riders travelling briskly through the perilous forest.  
"Maybe I put too much faith in this," Legolas thought to himself, keeping his eyes trained on the trail before him. He called for one of the elvish guards behind him to ride ahead to the forest's edge. He knew they could only be a few hours out, the speed they were travelling. It would take over a day to reach the location where he thought Aragorn would have been taken, but it was worth it.   
"I am not going to give up on you," Legolas promised himself. He knew somehow that Aragorn would understand. He had always understood before, even when Legolas had been mortally wounded through the caves of Moria. But he knew that as far away as Aragorn was, there would be no way to reach him if he had been taken inside the Black Gates. Aragorn would have to fight to stay on their side of Mordor.   
"You will have to fight, my friend," Legolas whispered, bringing a fist to his chest. "I know you can hear me, and I know that you understand. You have to fight."  
And somehow, he knew Aragorn did understand.  
  
--  
  
It was even more frightfully cold than the previous evening had been. Aragorn huddled by the fire they allowed him, trying to converse what little body heat he had left.   
He had tried to persude the head of the Uruk-Hai to give him water and fire. His reasoning was that he would be no good to Sauron dead. During the long walk to the north and east, he had realized that the only reason he was still alive was because he was an asset to Sauron. He knew the Ringbearer. And as long as Frodo still held the ring and stayed away from Mordor, Sauron could not afford to kill him.  
It was only a small blessing built into an entire day of torture. Without water, he would be near death by nightfall.  
Night had come, indeed. With a small cup of water between his tattered hands, he drank greedily. His breath was cold on the metal, but he tipped his head till it rested on the cup. He was quite tired from that day's journey, being prodded and pushed through the barren, desolate landscape.   
He had spied the river more than once, however, and knew they were gaining ground toward the Black Gate. It was less than a day's journey ahead. The smoke rising from the river towns was blackening, blotting out what little remained of the sunlight.  
As he thought harder about his predicament, an overwhelming sense of calm filled him. He glanced up. It was almost as though he had stepped into a warm bath. He blinked and let out a breath, the cold blue stream lifting away. It was almost terrifying to feel this way.  
It was almost as if he knew he were going to die.  
He pushed the thought roughly from his mind. He had come to accept death too quickly, losing the little ounce of faith he had left to whatever feelings of dispair he had. He almost laughed at his oafishness.  
"I have to get out of here," he muttered to himself, dropping the empty cup near the fire. He rested his bare hands slightly above the fire and glanced around. It was as though the fire were feeding him strength. He could feel the rage, the anger, and the hostility toward the mutilated, tortured elves growing with every breath.   
He rose to his feet. The small number of orcs behind him grunted and quickly moved to quell him if he tried anything. He turned, his dark eyes sparkling maliciously in the deepening glow of the fire. There were less than a half dozen orcs between him and the rolling hills, where he could hide himself in the plateaus along the river for days. The orc would eventually stop looking for him.   
He pressed his warm hands together, using them as strength as his fingers locked. Two orcs were approaching, their jagged blades raised, their voices calling out.  
Aragorn attacked them first, striking hard and fast. He used his strong arms to knock one orc into the other and as they tumbled over, he grasped the jagged knife the first had carried. He lifted the knife, holding it to his eyes, amazed by the glow of the fire, still fueling his desire for escape.  
He lifted the knife and with several powerful strokes, the orc fell off one by one. They had no time to call for the others, still hunting in the hills.   
Finally, the carnage lay around him, foul, stinking bodies of orc. He stared at the knife before using what was left of the cloth used to bind his hand to wipe the jagged knife free of blood.  
Then he turned toward the river, his eyes narrowing dangerous as he moved steathily through the hills.  
A cry sounded behind him. Turning, he whipped the knife, cutting off the cry as the knife twisted, beheading the orc with a stream of black. Aragorn quickly recovered the knife and glanced both ways to spy any more of the enemy that might be drawing nearer.   
He then turned and fled into the night.  
  
--  
  
Legolas could hear the sounds of voices ahead before they left the forest. Something was amiss. He quickly waved his arm, beckoning the elves and the two humans closer. "I will ride out first and the rest will follow in a group," he ordered. The group nodded quickly and Legolas turned to the pre-dawn light and rode his horse out.  
He was surprised to see an arc of arrows flying gracefully across the air. At the same time, the feeling in the pit of his stomach alarmed him to the fact that orcs were attacking. He turned to grab his knife when a body crushed into his, knocking him from his horse to the wooded taiga below.   
With a small cry, Legolas fought the orc, the two rolling over logs and ash until finally an arrow pierced into the back of the orc, sending a shooting stream of black, which draped across Legolas' cloak. He quickly sprang to his feet, grateful to see his own group had rescued them.  
Another cry rose behind him as Legolas rose from the pit, taking his two long, curved knifes and jumping into battle. 


	6. Part VI

I have already passed my submission allocation by double. I might even triple the 2,500 word maximum by the time I finish this thing. This is either the second-to-last or third-to-last part. This story has been an interesting challenge for me. Thank you for the reviews!  
  
Hopefully the next part will be posted sometime Monday.  
  
Without further ado...  
  
~*~*~*~  
Legolas and his group quickly met with Haldir, who was in heavy battle. They were already surrounded by mounds of orcs, which seemed to be coming from the hills below the plateau where they stood.  
Haldir fought with his bow, every arrow flying gracefully from the string and striking each target. Next to him, two elvish guards stood, their small curved knives in their hands, fighting each enemy hand-to-hand.  
Legolas knew it was his opportunity to take point and did so, leaping gracefully from the small plateau to a rocky structure below, taking his turn.  
His knives sliced quickly and brutally through the orcs which attacked in large numbers. Soon, other elves and even men joined him, swords against blades creating a sound so terrifying.  
As soon as all fourteen had gathered on the rocky outcrop directly below the ledge of the precipise, the orcs seemed to retreat back into the dawn light.   
Legolas turned to Haldir, who stood boldly above, his golden hair blowing gently off his shoulders. He turned to the younger elf and nodded firmly, turning back to recover his horse. Legolas took a breath and quickly leapt back to the grassy outcrop, reaching down to help the other men and elves scrambling back to their horses.  
They had ridden into the afternoon before they saw any traces there had been movement in the area. Carcases of wild beasts were strewn carelessly over ash-covered fire pits. The riders slowed down to pass the debris, carefully scanning the area for any traces or remains of the human.  
"There is nothing here," Haldir reported after a quick scan. "We must press on. They were heading north and east." He gestured to the footsteps laid sloppily in the ash, tracing closer to the mountains bordering Mordor.  
"We must watch for orc," another elf chimed. "They are notorious scouters. If Aragorn has escaped, they will be searching for him."  
Legolas tuned the voices, burying his energies elsewhere. He was trying to reach, to feel Aragorn's presence. It had been drawing nearer to him, and yet he never felt farther away. He turned his sight, his eyes unseeing, to the deepness of his mind, concentrating. He could not sense Aragorn's movement or motions. All he knew was that Aragorn was less than a day's journey away. And with every step, the distance between them was closing. It either meant the orcs were dead, or that they had stopped completely.  
Knowing there could be an entire army of Uruk-Hai ahead of him turned his blood cold. He opened his vision, his soft blue eyes staring across the murky expanse. Dark clouds were beginning to pour out over Mordor's mountains. A cold wind was seeping through the great plateaus.   
"We must move on," Haldir called out in front of him. "Legolas!"  
Legolas glanced up. "We move on!" He eased his steed back into an easy trot as the elves and men rode quickly to the north and east, the clouds of darkness closing in above their heads.  
  
--  
  
The dark clouds were beginning to blot out what remained of daylight. Aragorn turned and surveyed the shadows of the great plateaus. With a heavy breath, he sat on the hard ground, staring as the shadow spread across the river and up through Gondor.  
He was too weak to swim to Gondor, he was certain of that. He had broken ribs, he knew, from his initial attack. His hands and head were still bloody from the orc's ruthless whips. And the bruise between his shoulder blades ached whenever he lifted his arms over his head.   
He removed the jagged orc blade from his belt and carefully doused it with water from the river. He watched as the water glistened and sparkled, dripping off the blade. "If I ever get through this, I will not forget the elvish blades. Orc blades are dull and obscene."  
He knew he was speaking in tongues. Sleep had been diminished by the constant threat of attack. He had been attacked twice since he had left the orc camp the night before. He wished he could find a way to get out of the Mordor-controlled territory and make his way back to Gondor.  
Gondor.  
Even speaking the word on his tongue was magical. How he wanted to return! Gondor reminded him of Boromir, though twisted through the ring's controlling power, had been the true son of Gondor. Strong, independent and bold. Dashing, even. Aragorn swallowed hard, trying to force away the tears that threatened his control. Boromir should never have died.  
His last words echoed in Aragorn's head. "I would have followed you, my brother. My Captain. My King."  
The tears he had been fighting to control slipped down his cheeks. "I owe it to you to stand my ground and promise you that Gondor will never fall." His words spoken, he rose to his feet and replaced the blade. He turned to face the darkening shadows of the mountains of Mordor.  
And his heart stopped.  
Orc, thousands of orc, were standing beyond the plateau he had rested, slowly creeping up on him, awaiting their order to attack. 


	7. Part VII

A single cry from the orc was all Aragorn needed to spring him into action. He fled along the river's shore, his boots kicking up muddy ash and the poisonous water. He knew he couldn't continue forever, because the orc were already gaining on him, their snorting getting louder still.  
He could feel their hot, stinking breath on his neck and realized he could run no more. He removed the knife and turned, fighting off one orc. As another sword arched through the air, he grasped its blade with his bare hand, using the rest of him momentum to kick the orc away. Now with a sword in hand, he cast the useless orc blade aside. The sword cut swiftly through the advancing front of orc. Blades clanked on blade.   
Suddenly his attention was drawn to his right, away from the river. A few of the orc had picked up larger objects, one a log, one a rock. He turned and ran again, trying to double his speed. But every breath brought more sharp pain from his broken ribs.   
"I cannot do this much longer," he gasped between shallow breaths. There was a rock ahead, on the edge of the river. It was a bit higher. It would be there that he would make his final stand.  
He leapt on the rock and turned to face the orcs. He beheaded the first, a stream of the oily black blood scattering itself on his sword. The second orc had an axe, but Aragorn's sword was faster, slicing through the orc's chest, again tainting his sword with the foul blood of the enemy.  
One by one he cut through the orc. He could feel his energies depleting quickly as the bodies began piling up at his feet. His sword was graceful as it struck every single blow.  
The first blow he felt was from the log. It caught him on the underside of the chin, reeling him backwards. Another blow came from the same log, wiping his face from left to right, turning his vision blurry and red. He could taste the blood in his mouth.  
He stood up on shaky legs, quickly kicking the log-bearing orc from the rock and turning to boldly face the orc that seemed endless in their quest to detain him. He spat the blood from his mouth and smirked into the shadows, lowering his sword till the blade stood between his eyes.  
King or no King, they will never take me without a fight. They will never give me to Sauron alive...  
The relentless attack continued. The orc were beginning to crowd into the river behind the rock, using each other as stepping stones to reach Aragorn from behind.  
He was soon surrounded. With a heavy breath, he knew the end was near. Yet he fought, striking into the hearts of many orc, filling the river behind him with their terrible bodies.  
An axe struck him in the arm. Another orc leapt onto his back, swinging him in a painful circle. An perfect shot from a bow sent an arrow into his side. With a small moan, he pulled out the arrow, the weakness evident in his eyes as he glanced up. He stood again, for certain it would be last time he would ever stand. He lifted his sword to the side, his eyes narrowed in pain. His side, back and shoulders ached. The deep cut on his arm stung with every movement. And every breath caused a small stream of blood to escape his mouth.  
He fought off two more of the disfigured beings. With a cry, a second knife struck him, in the back, near his left shoulder. This time, he could stand no further. The log came again, striking the back of his head, reeling him backwards until he was almost on his back. He lifted his bloodied hands to protect his face as the orc swarmed around him.  
  
--   
  
Legolas had had a flutter in his stomach all evening. Even as they rode at full pace across the lowlands toward the plateaus, the feeling hadn't left. It was getting stronger and stronger. Aragorn was nearby, and he was hurt. He knew the ranger well enough now to sense when something was terribly wrong.  
He tried to recall when the feeling of terror had suddenly struck him. It was right after they had passed a large series of rocks that overhung the river. The elves had stopped a moment to let the men rest, since they had been riding hard since dawn and were not used to the excessive movements.  
Legolas could feel his breath catching and glanced up, a concerned look on his face. His fair hair brushed gently off his shoulders in the cold wind blowing from the east, as the clouds scattered the remaining signs of day. Another dark day lay ahead, Legolas feared, which would make searching for Aragorn even more difficult.  
"Orc!"  
Legolas snapped from it, using his sharply trained eyes to scan the expanse. The spotter's voice had cut into his reverie like a knife. If Aragorn was nearby, he was perhaps in this party of orc. "Haldir! We must follow!"  
Haldir nodded, his own fair hair blowing behind them as the steeds took off even faster, racing down into a lower valley. What few orc were there scattered quickly back into the shadows growing as night approached. Haldir quickly called the order to follow them. He turned and glanced at Legolas. The look in his pale blue eyes was clear: Legolas was to thoroughly search the area.  
Legolas gracefully got off his horse and circled the area, his eyes searching. A second elf followed him, the rest following Haldir. The two elves carefully scanned the remains of a camp. There was a metal cut tipped against a rock near a firepit. Legolas was drawn to it and knelt down. He realized why when he saw the traces of human blood.  
He gently touched the thick ash where the blood was scattered. "Aragorn."  
It was a voice tinted raw with pain.   
The elf behind him called out. Legolas turned from his crouch, his eyes full of confusion. The elf was holding up a thin chain, from which dangled a small object. In less than a second Legolas held the chain in his hand. "He would never part with this unless he wanted us to know where to find it." His fingers lovingly traced the curves of the small jewel. He quickly put it in a small sachel attached to his belt.  
"The Evenstar," the other elf breathed. "I believed it to be a myth."  
"It was given to him by someone who has a dear hold on his heart," Legolas replied, swallowing hard. He would never cry, but the emotions welling inside of him were overpowering. Sorrow, for his dearest friend, lost in the wilderness, surrounded by the greatest enemy man had ever known.   
Also, rage. He was just beginning to feel it. The rage over what they might have done to Aragorn. And because he had seen the blood, the pain washed over him in waves.  
It was almost as though he were living Aragorn's pain vicariously. Because he was nearby, the pain almost doubled.   
"He is around here someplace," Legolas whispered, turning and scanning the river. Darkness had now completely fallen, but with his superior vision, he could see beyond the darkness. "I can sense him."  
The other elf stood still, his own superior vision trying to spy any glimpse of the elf.  
Suddenly a large cry came from over the hill.  
"Come!" Legolas cried as both elves raced to the edge of the hill and peered over the crest.  
The other elves and men under Haldir were engaged in a battle with more orcs then most would ever see. Legolas had only seen this many before, and that was when Helm's Deep was attacked. Helm's Deep fought with a strength of two thousand. He had no idea how delicate the odds were when fourteen fought a thousand orc.   
Or how high a price he would pay to find out. 


	8. Part VIII

Haldir hadn't seen so many orc before, except at the battle he had fought less than a week before. His blue eyes scanned the perimeter quickly. He drew out his bow, his eyes lowering to the hundreds of torches lighting the expanse. Their backs appeared to be turned, and they were heading away, back toward the mountains, less than a half-days journey to the Black Gate.  
His fingers itched to grab an arrow, to let out an assault that would stun and hopefully terrify the Uruk-Hai. But after three thousand years of fighting battles against Sauron and his unmentionable evils, Haldir knew better. It was in his best interest to stay quiet and to wait.   
His only problem with that was Aragorn. He could be a prisoner in that entire herd of orc. It scared him to think that such a small group of men had fallen to such a large enemy. He turned to the other elves, wishing Legolas was there to give him any instinct which to go upon. He trusted the younger elf implicitly, his trust had grown during the battle at Helm's Deep.   
His jaw twitched as he quickly grasped an arrow and placed it between the string and the front of the bow. His arm was taut, his gaze ready, his fingers aching to release. He finally decided, and going on gut instinct, released the arrow, which clipped the head of an orc in the rear.  
The orc in the rear paused and turned, letting out a cry so ferocious and so terrifying, Haldir regretted his initial instinct.  
Calling out to his elves, they set up point behind the rocks, dismounting their horses and tucking them back where it would be safe. From the corner of his eye, he saw Legolas and his best advisor Melondír rushing over the crest of the hill. He almost chuckled when he spied Legolas pause, grasping the arm of the elf next to him. The two paused and Haldir could almost feel their terror, for he felt it himself.   
The orc were already doubling back and springing in their position to attack, gathering their weapons. With a heavy breath, Haldir noticed Legolas and the other elf drawning closer. Turning back to the crisis at hand, he quickly took another arrow and shot it, clearly hitting his mark.   
He noticed the humans had gathered their swords and were standing before the elves, ready to give their lives to the hunt for one man.  
It was almost ironic to him, Haldir thought as they fought off the first wave of orc. The rest were not far behind. Most still continued on the path.   
Haldir's third arrow caught an orc in the side of the neck. The orc fell aside, knocking over a live orc. One of the men swept in and quickly stabbed downwards with his sword, the foul smell rising as the orc fell. A second orc took the human from behind, tumbling them both onto the ash-covered earth.  
Only the timely intervention by the elf who had gone with Legolas saved his life. His long, curved elvish knife quickly pierced the skin of the orc twice before the human pushed the hulky figure from his body, his face raging with disgust.   
Legolas joined the battle, his own bow out, his own arrows shooting into carefully selected targets. Haldir quickly leapt over the downed orc and joined his elvish friend. "The orc are retreating into the hills. They move too fast to carry a human. Search for him."  
Legolas nodded and swept behind the elves and men toward the river. Haldir turned around, readied another arrow, and prepared to shoot again.  
  
--  
  
Legolas quickly scanned behind the elves and men, then fought his way to the river. Two orc were coming around and glanced up in surprise as Legolas took them both with two quick shots. He then recovered the arrows and continued on his search.  
He scanned the rocks carefully, trying to see if he had fallen into the river. It was then that he saw them. Orcs. Dozens of bodies.   
He quickly leapt the bodies and scanned the perimeter again. The bodies stank of a deep, hideous odor. They were behind the rocks as well, draped in the river, dangling from the rock precariously. There had obviously been a battle there. And from the sense of instinct he had, he knew it was Aragorn who had killed these orc.  
He spied a shiny object in the pile of dead Uruk-Hai. Legolas gently removed an arrow. The tip of the arrow was stained red with blood.  
A gasp sounded from himself as he dropped the arrow and stepped away from it. In his mind, he could see it. Aragorn was fighting boldly, killing and slashing his way through a dozen Uruk-Hai when the perfectly shot arrow sliced into him. The pain made Legolas nauseous.   
He spied a second item on the other side of the rock, dangling from the arm of a beheaded orc. The shiny black blood was scattered on the sword, mingled with red blood. Legolas took the sword and held it. He could feel the heat of Aragorn's touch rising from it.  
A loud, anguished cry rose from his throat.  
He could feel Aragorn's presence slipping away. "He is fading," he cried desperately, holding the sword strongly in his hand and turning away from the river. "He will pass soon."  
If only they hadn't stopped to rest. If only they had ridden harder. The king of man would still be alive.  
With tears flickering in his eyes, Legolas forced his wooden legs onward, back to the battle and the sounds of clanking metal.  
  
--  
  
Haldir watched Legolas go on before turning back to the battle. He knew he had to draw his forces back so the other orcs would get farther away. Then he would corner and annhiliate the threat.  
He took several steps backwards, careful not to trip on the fallen orc behind him. He drew out another arrow and fired it, precisely hitting its intended target in the chest. The orc continued on, an awful cry coming from it, it's axe in the air. Haldir gasped and quickly turned to run, but the axe came down on his shoulder. He swung around, knocking the axe from the orc, his hand pressed to his deep wound. His eyes widened as time seemed to stand still. His good arm quickly took his knife from his belt. He turned and slashed the neck of an orc with a short, jagged knife. He spun in the other direction, stabbing a second orc in the neck, a stream of black shooting from the mortal wound.  
His breath came out in heavy gasps as he turned to a third orc. His blue eyes remained cold as stones as he flung the knife through the air. It twisted, finding it's mark in the center of the orc's chest. Haldir jumped over the body of the first and retrieved his knife, quickly glancing around to see how the other members of his band were faring.  
Two elves stood just off to his left, both fighting off a single orc. One had a deep cut on his face and a slim stream of red across his chest, but was fighting with the true strength Haldir knew elves possessed. The second just had a few small cuts on his face, but the way his movements were slowed, figured broken bones in the chest or back. They were both taking a hard fight.  
Removing his hand from his wound, he ignored the pain and turned back to the orc. There were not many of them remaining. Most had disappeared along with the rest of the pack, eager to return to the Black Gate and safely within the borders of Mordor. Haldir realized that these Uruk-Hai were stronger than the ones from Isengard. It was almost hard to believe, considering he'd almost died at Helm's Deep.  
He turned to fight his fourth orc. Instead of using his knife, he fought hand-to-hand. As soon as he managed to get behind the creature, he used his powerful arms and snapped its neck, a crack loudly filling the valley. He dropped the creature and stepped back, taking hold of his knife again, and retreating back into battle.  
The elves and men were pressing forward now. Dozens of orc lay battered and broken behind. And not one man or elf was unaccounted for, except for Legolas.  
Haldir wondered of his fate as they ran onward, attacking a slower orc who ran to catch up with the thousands that walked ahead. He knew that if they attacked any more in the original group, the entire thousand would turn around and they would all die. If they only faced a hundred, they stood a better chance.  
Another four orc came from nowhere. Haldir and two elves quickly turned, bows at the ready and fired. Three of the four were knocked down. As the fourth orc went to one of the men for the kill, a figure suddenly appeared behind it. A short, jagged knife flashed in the remaining firelight and slashed down, rendering the orc silent. As the orc fell aside, the elves and men turned to the figure, their eyes wide as they stared hard. In stunned disbelief. 


	9. Part IX

The final part/Epilogue will be posted tomorrow, which is my deadline. Thank you for the feedback. Your encouragement has helped me with this challenge, and has given my inspiration/ideas to start another story after this one is complete.

Thank you Trin... God Bless my Beta.

~*~*~

Legolas moved quickly along the river, trying to ignore the sounds of the battle. As much as he wanted to jump in and fight, his top priority was to find Aragorn, dead or alive.

"I hope he is alive," he muttered to himself, continuing along his path until the water rushed up and over his boots. He let out another cry, much shorter and not quite as full of pain as his first. It was a cry of complete dispair.

If he hadn't had his elvish sense of hearing, he never would have heard the choking gasp. Legolas turned, his eyes searching out the sound. It came to a figure wearing muddy boots, half dragged in the river.

Legolas moved quickly to the side of the figure and bent down. It was Aragorn. He quickly pulled the man from the water and propped him against the rock. 

He gently tipped Aragorn's face to the darkness. "Aragorn, please. Wake up." The man's head fell heavy to the side.

The elf rose, his chest rising and falling as his heart raced. Aragorn looked terrible, his face bloodied and bruised, his eyes closed and swollen. "I need to get him out of here," he said to himself. 

Legolas bent down and pulled Aragorn over his shoulder. "If I could give the world, I would give it to the King of Men. Give him my strength, my sorrows, my joy, and all that I have to give. Bring him back to life." His words eased into a soft elvish lament. 

Aragorn didn't stir over his shoulder. Legolas could feel the weight of the human on his body. "Hold on, Aragorn," Legolas muttered as he moved gracefully to the edge of the hill and looked downwards. 

The elves and what few men remained were engaged in a battle with the guarding orcs. Legolas quickly set Aragorn back onto the rock and took his curved, elvish knife. He turned, eyeing a possible attack when he could feel the air stop behind him. He turned his head slightly, crooking his knife. 

He turned to attack the first orc which approached him. It was a quick cut to the throat. Legolas tossed the dead orc aside and fixed his gaze. The elves and humans were running back to the mountains, trying to trap the few orc that remained.

Legolas turned in anticipation back to Aragorn. But the moment his eyes laid onto the soft, pale face, his stomach froze. "No," he whispered, quickly moving to him. "Aragorn, no!" He quickly laid his head to the man's chest, listening for any signs of life. "He is fading." 

His words were in desperation and he slapped Aragorn for the second time. "Please, wake up!"

But Legolas was strong enough to know when one was dead. And glancing at the lifeless form of the ranger, he knew that Sauron had cost him the life of his dearest friend.

--

He could feel the cold mists around him. He glanced about, trying to take in the aura of completeness he felt within himself. He could not remember how he had gotten to this place. All he knew was he felt a sense of innermost calm, almost like an inner peace. 

He let out a long breath as he continued down the white path. An infinite expanse rested before him, covered in waterfalls, mountains, and sun-tainted leaves on large trees that fluttered in the wind.

Aragorn was confused now. Even though he felt he belonged there, he also felt that there was someplace else he needed to be. He stopped, his vision acutely aware of the light, of the sounds, of the purity.

It made no sense to him.

"Where am I?" he asked the still air. He turned briskly and tried to walk away, but saw nothing of the path he'd come from. "Why am I here?"

He lowered his gaze to a reflecting pool of water. He stepped over to it and glanced at his face. He was a youthful, handsome figure, he realized. He was not old, grey and stiff-boned, as so many men had he seen in his age.

Was he a man?

His questions went unanswered. Aragorn continued on the path, his mind growing more and more aware that wherever he was, he would not be leaving soon. 

Almost like a whisper in the winds, he heard it. It was a soft, feminine voice. It was spoken in the ancient tongue. As he listened, the voice changed distinctly, becoming his tongue. 

"You are passing into the great halls of Kings..."

"A King," he muttered to himself. "I am a King!"

Suddenly a flash of light hit before his eyes. A pure white light followed. He saw a tall elvish man, in a green cape, fighting with a curved knife. After his enemy had been killed, he turned back. His eyes were full of deep concern.

The flash came again. Aragorn fell to his knees, his hands covering his eyes. "Where am I?" His voice had more anger this time. 

It was then there was a hand upon his shoulder. "_Anirach, nui lu gwannad uin gwaith lin_?" It was a soft, familiar feminine tone. He understood her completely.

"I have no intentions of leaving anyone behind," he replied quietly. The hand on his shoulder did not move, and provided a feeling of comfort. 

"_Boe ammen veriad lin..." _the voice trailed off. "_Telin le thaed_."

"How can I protect you when I do not understand this?" He turned, anger brimming in his eyes until he saw the figure before him. She was elf, and he recognized her, with his entire heart. "Arwen."

She touched his face. "Shhhhhhhh." 

There were tears in his eyes as he glanced into hers. "_I ned ol reniannen_?"

She shook her head as they both rose on their legs. "I have come to take you back to your reality."

"I have passed the light on to those that wait in darkness," he responded. "I have fought my battles, my wars, and my pride. I have completed my journey."

"You have given up," she replied, taking a step back. The stunned look in her eyes grew with every realization she took. "You have lost the faith I have given you."

"I will never lose that faith," he said, putting his own hand on her shoulder.

"Who will fight for them if the King of Man falls?"

"Arwen..." he turned his head away and stepped from her. "How can you ask me to return to a world that so desperately wanted me here?"

"It was never the intention for you to die," Arwen whispered sadly. "Many have given you the good grace and fortune of life. But you need to take it. You need to take the breath of life."

Aragorn turned back to her, a tear rolling down his cheek. "And you, will I see you again?"

"Our time will come." She stepped up to him, closing her hands around his. "Unto my promises, I hold. _Estelio han. Estelio ammem_."

He closed his eyes.

~*~*~

The Elvish I used in this part is translated (sometimes roughly) as follows:

Anirach, nui lu gwannad uin gwaith lin? = Do you wish before it's time to leave your people?

_Boe ammen veriad lin... _= We need your protection

Telin le thaed = Come back to the light

I ned ol reniannen = Am I in a dream

Estelio han = Trust this

Estelio ammem = Trust us

~*~*~


	10. Part X

This is the last part... many thanks to those that have read it... it wouldn't be complete without you!

PS: It wasn't my idea to "kill" Aragorn... thank Katrina for that... as a Beta, its her job to subliminize.

~*~*~

Legolas had just pulled Aragorn's body down into the valley. He was approaching the others from behind, Aragorn's frame settled carefully over his shoulder.

As he spied the others in attack, he knew it would be difficult to follow them. He forced himself to set Aragorn down again, gently resting his head against the Earth as he turned back to scout his next movements.

Behind him, Aragorn stirred, opening his eyes. He blinked, taking in the harsh darkness. It was still blurry to him, everything was so blurry. His lips parted, his lungs taking in the first breath of air. As his bearings became clearer, he realized he was laying down and struggled to sit up, a loud moan escaping his chapped lips. 

Legolas turned at the sound, his eyes frozen as he spun about, his hands bringing the bow to the ready. His eyes widened at what he saw. "Aragorn!"

It was a cry, a bellow, a sound of utmost relief. Legolas quickly closed the distance between them in seconds. The moment he stopped, time seemed to stand still as Legolas bent down to his knees. His trembling hand reached out to clasp Aragorn's. "You have come."

Aragorn blinked as he saw Legolas. "Legolas?"

The elf nodded slowly. A smile flickered on his lips. "Bless you."

Aragorn looked down again, then attempted to stand. Legolas, realizing that Aragorn was still injured severely, quietly helped the ranger to his feet. "Water," he croaked out.

Legolas gave him what remained in his canteen. He couldn't take his eyes of the man, his soft blue gaze full of admiration, surprise and respect. "I never thought I would see you alive again."

Aragorn swallowed the water and smiled tentatively. He pressed his still-bloodied hand to his throbbing head. "I never thought I would see you either."

Legolas moved to Aragorn's side. "I swore on my life you were gone."

"I was," Aragorn said, setting the canteen aside. "I was on my way, at the least."

Legolas glanced down. "We have to move soon. The orc will come back once they realize the rear have lost you."

Aragorn nodded, remembering. "We should be along." He glanced around uncertainly. "Are there others with you?"

"Haldir. And a small number of elves and Theoden's men," Legolas replied, gathering his things.

Aragorn walked and stood by Legolas. He peered out into the darkness. "How can you see them?"

"They are not far ahead. Come."

With that, both men ran through the valley, over the bodies of countless orc. Finally they paused to get their bearings. Legolas looked into the darkness.

"See anything?" Aragorn asked, catching up quickly, his hand pressed to his still-wounded side.

"Orc, thousands of orc," Legolas said, his voice low. "We have gone too far, they must be back..." his voice died off as he noticed the others in the valley. There were only four orc, and they were approaching rapidly. The elves had only just noticed and were arming themselves. "If those orc get there first..." his voice trailed off as Aragorn sped back down into the plain. "Aragorn! Aragorn!" 

The last thing either of them needed was for Aragorn to get himself killed now. 

Aragorn kept running until he was parallel to the orc. Three of the four were taken down, but the elves didn't have time to rearm. Aragorn knew he had the clearer shot and quickly jumped the orc from behind, snapping its neck. As the orc fell away, he came face to face with a plethora of elves. And their arrows.

--

"Cease fire!"

Haldir's order saved Aragorn a heart attack. He lifted his own hand, calling out the elvish word for 'stop' when Haldir called his own. The tall elf slowly lowered his own, his blue eyes widening. "Yet you stand."

"I am safe," Aragorn replied.

It was then that Legolas joined the others. "The steeds are at the top of the next hill. We must move quickly. The orc will return."

Haldir called the order and the fifteen men and elves quickly returned to the edge of the forest.

At the edge of the forest, after a hard dawn's ride, Aragorn realized the crossroads were near. It was time for him to return to Gondor, since they were nearing the edge of the borders.

They slowed to rest. Most of the men had been riding two hard days with little rest. The elves also took the rest in relief. They had found who they had been looking for, without a rescue, and had suffered no casualties.

Legolas took the time to bind Aragorn's wounds. Aragorn had joked that since he had slept nearly a night before Legolas had found him, he was well rested. The truth was, he had never been more exhausted. As he rested his head against a log, his eyes sought out the sky. Without stars, it looked bleak and desolate. Inside of him, he had never felt stronger. Even though he was weak and physically hurt, he was ready to do what he had to do. Fight.

Morning came soonafter, and they arose and prepared to go. Aragorn was still sleeping when Legolas approached him. "I never suspected you as one to sleep all day."

Aragorn opened his eyes and quickly ground the sleep from them. "If you had not kept me awake all night."

Legolas smiled and bent down to him. "Water," he offered, handing the ranger his full canteen. "I have something else of value as well." He removed the chain from his belt and held it up to the mediocre light. "I believe that this belongs to you."

Aragorn's hand trembled as he reached out to touch the Evenstar. Even though morning brought no light with it, the fire still reflected the purity from it. "You found this."

"You would never part with it unless you were about to die," Legolas responded, his face grave. "I never imagined I would give this back."

Aragorn was still staring at the beautiful jewel, tears in his eyes. He grasped the chain in a tight fist and brought it to his heart. "I never imagined I would ever get it back." 

Legolas stood and helped Aragorn to his feet as well. "I imagine this might be the last time I see you again as well."

Aragorn shook his head. "That will never happen."

Legolas grasped his hand. "You will not return to Gondor alone." He turned to Theoden's men, who rode forward, their eyes proud, their height strong, their faces gaunt. "You will take the Sons of Rohan. They have seen what many others have not."

"And you?" Aragorn asked, turning to Haldir.

"My delegation and I are to return to Lothlorién, which has been under Sauron's hand," Haldir replied in his formal tone. He turned to Legolas. "What do you intend to do?"

"I have to remain true to a promise," Legolas replied. "My heart will always be with you, Haldir. My journey leads me to Gondor."

Haldir nodded and bowed his head. "I believe this is where we say farewell."

It was difficult for Aragorn to say goodbye. It was in all likelihood he would never see these elves again. The roads back to Lothlorién were perilous, full of patrolling orc, and the hand of Saruman, still powerful even if he was trapped. "It is likely we will never see one another again."

"I know," Haldir said. He glanced at Aragorn and smiled his cool, arrogant smile. "I also know that when you take your rightful place as the King of Man, Sauron will never see the light of his ring."

Aragorn nodded and turned to Legolas. Legolas turned to Haldir and the two exchanged elvish words.

"We will cross the river here!" Aragorn shouted his orders to the men. They nodded and voiced their approval. When Aragorn turned back, he replaced the Evenstar, putting it back where it belonged, nearest his heart. "Legolas?"

Legolas turned his own steed about as Haldir and the other elves rode into the forest. "Why do I feel we will never see this forest?"

"This new journey will be different," Aragorn agreed. "We may yet get to see another sunrise. We may yet get to see these hills, these forests. But rest assure, our lives will be lived differently."

Legolas considered his words. "Gondor is fortunate to have a sound and able fighter willing to give his life to destroy its' darkness."

"Gondor is fortunate to have many willing to fight for the freedom of Middle Earth," Aragorn agreed. He glanced behind him and spied the four riders of Rohan, their faces still closed off. "And I myself am in your debt. Without you, I most certainly would have died."

Legolas's face reflected that he knew. "You are alive. That is what matters."

"Maybe," Aragorn replied. "Maybe what we need is faith."

"Faith?" A rider behind him asked. "Folly, pure folly."

"Faith and courage," Aragorn corrected, placing his hand over his Star. "Faith and courage are what we need to finish our journey. To make it complete."

There were cries of rallying behind him as the steeds picked up pace, heading westward into Gondor.

To face their enemy. And to defeat it.

- fine -


End file.
